Read Online Jumlin's Spawn by Evernight Publishing - Free Book Online
Authors: Evernight Publishing
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storm.”
“Just what we needed…stuff to make our job harder,”
Yancey said.
“We'd better get a move on,” Oliver replied, stepping
over the seat bridge to slip into the driver's seat. “I’m driving,
so where do we go?”
“Head 48 kilometers toward 0 degrees on the compass,”
Yancey said, climbing into the passenger side.
“Translation please,” Oliver replied.
Yancey pointed due north. “Molly's place is about 30
miles that way.”
The road narrowed, steep and long, but their jeep
made it…just. It navigated the split crannies through crags and the
larger cavern walls. Yancey pointed out a rugged wall beneath an
outcropping of boulders. Elfie had thought it another rock
face.
“This is it, Willow Peak,” Yancey said. “You can park
right here.”
It was not Elfie's imagination. The moment they left
the jeep, she saw that the stormy sky had taken on the warm honey
light of a Rembrandt painting. She could sense energy wash across
her skin, her hair standing on end. Static electricity from the
storm, she concluded. Only more. Much more.
The tan rock wall gate had obviously been constructed
to blend in with the landscape. Beyond the gate lay a group of
three natural springs surrounded by cement, to look like three
bubbling water pools with steam rising off them. The largest one
was fed by a ground tapped aquifer that looked like a waterfall
spilling over arranged rocks. Artificial masonry upon the mountain. Landscaping by Palmer & Sons , a little sign read.
As Yancey pushed open the gate, Elfie could see the
next rising hill beyond it, otherwise hidden by the slant of the
road. Seven apertures appeared atop the hill's apex. Elfie could
see silent lightning glancing off the caves. Even in the afternoon
light, the caves looked like glowing portals. Wanagi Yata, the
Lakota called them. The Angel Caves.
To the left, a path sloped to a walled rock garden.
Great floating jewels of blown glass had been dangled from unseen
wires hung on trees. The house beyond it was a standard middle-aged
double-wide mobile home.
A blast of flame jetted through the gape of the gate
around the spring pools. Carrying the flame was a woman who quickly
shutdown the blow torch. She also toted through the gate two big,
misshapen glass objects.
The old woman’s brownish face wore an incongruous map
of freckles, her stark gray eyes lit up by the sun. She could
have been anywhere from an old 50 to a young 70. Her black hair had
been brushed into two pigtails. Elfie remembered Yancey saying to
her many times that there were only enough living full-blood
Indians to fill a 747, and he was one of them. Everyone else had
mixed ethnicity. Apparently, even medicine women.
“Ho, Yancey,” Molly said.
“Hi, Molly,” he replied. “Severin tells me you wanted
to see us about something. This is Oliver, and Elfie. I think you
may remember them.”
“Yeah, I do, heya,” she said, limping toward a huge,
thick metal barrel. She placed the glass pieces she carried into
the barrel. “I knew I had that damn glass flame too high. I lost a
lot of chances.” She aimed her blowtorch at the barrel of glass and
fired it inside it. “Gotta send these back to their source. This
will soften them. I can kiln them later.”
Elfie gazed at the many glass objects of art she now
recognized, artfully placed throughout the springs area. Concrete
furniture inhabited the area. The concrete wore the same subtle
harmony of color palate. A blown-glass golden orb sat in the middle
of the table.
“Did you make all of this glass work?” Elfie asked.
“They're beautiful.”
“Yeah, all of them,” Molly said, laying the blowtorch
beside the burning glass barrel. “I guess it started as an art, and
then it was a business, now it's just a habit. Can I get you kids
some hot tea? Or coffee?”
All three of them shook their heads.
“We’ve come a long way,” Yancey said, “I think we’d
just like to hear what you wanted to see us about.”
Molly
“Just what we needed…stuff to make our job harder,”
Yancey said.
“We'd better get a move on,” Oliver replied, stepping
over the seat bridge to slip into the driver's seat. “I’m driving,
so where do we go?”
“Head 48 kilometers toward 0 degrees on the compass,”
Yancey said, climbing into the passenger side.
“Translation please,” Oliver replied.
Yancey pointed due north. “Molly's place is about 30
miles that way.”
The road narrowed, steep and long, but their jeep
made it…just. It navigated the split crannies through crags and the
larger cavern walls. Yancey pointed out a rugged wall beneath an
outcropping of boulders. Elfie had thought it another rock
face.
“This is it, Willow Peak,” Yancey said. “You can park
right here.”
It was not Elfie's imagination. The moment they left
the jeep, she saw that the stormy sky had taken on the warm honey
light of a Rembrandt painting. She could sense energy wash across
her skin, her hair standing on end. Static electricity from the
storm, she concluded. Only more. Much more.
The tan rock wall gate had obviously been constructed
to blend in with the landscape. Beyond the gate lay a group of
three natural springs surrounded by cement, to look like three
bubbling water pools with steam rising off them. The largest one
was fed by a ground tapped aquifer that looked like a waterfall
spilling over arranged rocks. Artificial masonry upon the mountain. Landscaping by Palmer & Sons , a little sign read.
As Yancey pushed open the gate, Elfie could see the
next rising hill beyond it, otherwise hidden by the slant of the
road. Seven apertures appeared atop the hill's apex. Elfie could
see silent lightning glancing off the caves. Even in the afternoon
light, the caves looked like glowing portals. Wanagi Yata, the
Lakota called them. The Angel Caves.
To the left, a path sloped to a walled rock garden.
Great floating jewels of blown glass had been dangled from unseen
wires hung on trees. The house beyond it was a standard middle-aged
double-wide mobile home.
A blast of flame jetted through the gape of the gate
around the spring pools. Carrying the flame was a woman who quickly
shutdown the blow torch. She also toted through the gate two big,
misshapen glass objects.
The old woman’s brownish face wore an incongruous map
of freckles, her stark gray eyes lit up by the sun. She could
have been anywhere from an old 50 to a young 70. Her black hair had
been brushed into two pigtails. Elfie remembered Yancey saying to
her many times that there were only enough living full-blood
Indians to fill a 747, and he was one of them. Everyone else had
mixed ethnicity. Apparently, even medicine women.
“Ho, Yancey,” Molly said.
“Hi, Molly,” he replied. “Severin tells me you wanted
to see us about something. This is Oliver, and Elfie. I think you
may remember them.”
“Yeah, I do, heya,” she said, limping toward a huge,
thick metal barrel. She placed the glass pieces she carried into
the barrel. “I knew I had that damn glass flame too high. I lost a
lot of chances.” She aimed her blowtorch at the barrel of glass and
fired it inside it. “Gotta send these back to their source. This
will soften them. I can kiln them later.”
Elfie gazed at the many glass objects of art she now
recognized, artfully placed throughout the springs area. Concrete
furniture inhabited the area. The concrete wore the same subtle
harmony of color palate. A blown-glass golden orb sat in the middle
of the table.
“Did you make all of this glass work?” Elfie asked.
“They're beautiful.”
“Yeah, all of them,” Molly said, laying the blowtorch
beside the burning glass barrel. “I guess it started as an art, and
then it was a business, now it's just a habit. Can I get you kids
some hot tea? Or coffee?”
All three of them shook their heads.
“We’ve come a long way,” Yancey said, “I think we’d
just like to hear what you wanted to see us about.”
Molly
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